


No Acrobatic Sex Stunts In The Shower

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hey Quick Question Do Any Doors At The Homestead Lock, Jeremy the Shower Goblin, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: “I dunno how you’re so together because every time I have to watch you do half-naked push-ups I spend the next half hour wishing I were the floor,” she replies, smile growing when he curls one hand around the back of her neck and drags her forward.“I did wonder what that was about.”  His breath teases against her lips.





	No Acrobatic Sex Stunts In The Shower

So, Wynonna is _definitely_ gonna explode.

“I’m gonna explode,” she whines plaintively into Dolls’ lips.  He tastes like cinnamon toothpaste because they’ve been up for all of ten minutes, and he’s a little slow to react.  She can feel his hands hovering over her before they finally settle on her hips.

To be fair, she did just ambush him at the bathroom sink.

It’s just that every time he’s put his _hands_ on her or his _mouth_ on her or—another door opens to reveal an incredibly scarred-but-apologetic sister (occasionally accompanied by a much less sympathetic Nicole).  She hadn’t realized how few _locks_ existed at the homestead until this shit started.  And anyway, Dolls is pretty hesitant to do anything more intense than look at her when her sister is in the house.  Which she is… often.  So, sue her for taking advantage of an empty house. 

“They’re getting back at us,” she says.

“Us?” he grunts, jerking away and frowning, “You.  _I_ know how to knock.”

She lets her hands rest on his shoulders and leans back as far as his grip will let her to let out an exasperated sigh.  “I dunno how you’re so together because every time I have to watch you do half-naked push-ups I spend the next half hour wishing I were the floor,” she replies, smile growing when he curls one hand around the back of her neck and drags her forward.

“I did wonder what that was about.”  His breath teases against her lips.

“Do you know,” she demands between hard, fast kisses, “How many _days_ you’ve been sleeping in my bed?”  She punctuates it by kicking the door shut.

“Seriously?” he asks, pushing her back up against it.

She doesn’t say _yeah, seriously, this is the only room with a lock and I still gotta go face my terrible boss_ because she forgets, briefly, how to form sentences as his teeth graze her lip and that’s fine that skill got her in trouble she’s better off without it just, god, don’t let him stop kissing her.  He does, technically, stop kissing her, but just long enough to get to her neck with his teeth and lips and his _stubble_ , fuck, and she gasps and grips the back of his shirt.  Every nip and drag sends tingling heat straight through her.

“This is, um,” she says, distracted when his fingers slip under her top, over her side, “This is fun, really fun, but I was actually thinking…”

He pulls back enough to look back at the shower behind him.  “That’s a terrible idea.”  She snorts and doesn’t say _every part of this_ is a terrible decision.  “You’re gonna fall and bust your head open,” he says seriously as she skirts him to fiddle with the knobs.  As she begins to straighten, he tugs her backwards into his chest.  Her hair is brushed over one shoulder and she feels lips on the back of her neck, at her hairline, and fingertips skimming over her belly.  “And, as a man who really _does_ care about your health and happiness, I’m gonna wanna take you to the hospital.”

His pause is expectant so she tilts her head to the side and prompts, “But?”

“But as a fugitive, I may have to pass,” he replies, and she can hear the grin in his voice.

“Well, that’s arousing.”  Sighing, she holds up three fingers and promises, “No acrobatic sex stunts in the shower.”

He chuckles and holds her there for just a moment before backing out of her space.  Hooking her fingers into her pajama top, she tugs it up over her head.  She has a little trouble with the shorts, then jumps behind the shower curtain without looking to see if he was actually going with this mostly just so she doesn’t have to see if he’s laughing at her.  She gets just enough time to duck under the spray of hot water and take a few bracing breaths when the curtain next to her shifts.  When she turns to face him, it’s all she can do not to stare (or inhale her damn tongue) and she suddenly realizes just how small that shower is.  She catches a water droplet on his shoulder with her lips.

“Just don’t let me fall, okay,” she jokes lightly, watching her own fingers trace around his scar.  Idly, she wonders why he tolerates her fascination with it, even now as he cups her jaw, presses his lips and nose to her temple—it’s a little closer and more tender than she really knows how to deal with, honestly, but so many things have been lately, maybe she’ll just get used to it and it’ll stop making her chest ache.

Quickly, she arches up into him, mashing her mouth into his hard enough to distract from the rabbit-fast beat of her heart.  She thinks he gets the message because he holds her closer and for a moment it’s just his skin and his teeth and his tongue and his soft moans she can feel and hear and _taste_.  She lets her blunt nails drag down his sides, smiling when his breath catches.  The noise he makes when she grips the base of his cock is, frankly, amazing and she’s going straight to the hardware store after this and getting a lock for her bedroom door because she’s gonna need to hear _that_ roughly every day for until the end of time.  She strokes slowly, swallowing his ragged breaths as his hands trail down her neck, over her breasts—his head drops to follow and the angle is awkward but he teases a low whine out of her.  Fingers trip down her stomach until they’re slipping over her aching clit and she has to bite her lip to hold back a moan as she bucks into the touch.

“Oh, my _god_ ,” she breathes shakily as she tugs him back up to eye-level.  “I need—I need you to—” she pants openly into his mouth and he nods silently even as he pushes her hip.  She twists, plants her hands against the tile wall.  His hands feel so big on her hips, pulling her against him so she can feel the length of him.  She’s _right_ on the verge of reminding him she still has to go to work when he eases into her and all she can manage is a low, “Fuck.”

Now, this could be the weeks on weeks of sexual frustration speaking, but when he rolls his hips her knees go weak and she can’t really hold back the shuddery whimper that wriggles out of her and her nails catch at the crumbling grout between the tiles.  Voice unsteady, she begs for—for more or harder or just please, and it must get through to him because he _does_ , fingers digging into wet flesh.  She straightens until she’s flush to his chest and he curses into her hair.  His thrusts slow as his fingers spread out over her sides, slip up to her ribs and she thinks she forgets to breathe for a minute as she rocks back into him. 

Then he snaps his hips into her and she gives up all premise of trying to keep quiet and, God, it’s good the house is empty because the slap of skin on skin and her cries of pleasure and his moans and by the time he reaches between her legs she’s just completely fucking gone and her knuckles hurt before she even realizes she’s digging her nails into his wrist and she—she cums so hard she thinks she may actually have died.  Wave after wave wracks through her as he keeps _going_ , Jesus, and he groans and clutches her even tighter and it’d hurt if it weren’t so goddamn _awesome_. 

He starts to pull away, but at the involuntary little noise she makes in the back of her throat his arms wind around her middle as she feels his lips on her shoulder.  It’s not until the water starts to go cold that she lets him release her, and even then, it’s only to shut it off.

“You need to get ready for work,” Dolls murmurs into her sleepy, sated kisses.

“Fuck work,” she says.  “Fuck Luca—actually, wait, don’t.”  She deeply, deeply appreciates his chuckle.  When she starts to shiver and the constant _drip drip drip_ breaks through the haze, she groans, “Fine, fine.”

There’s no real, like, sexy way to dry off, so she just tries to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.  Not quickly enough, apparently, because her hair is still sticking to her in soaked clumps when he reels her back in.  She deals, she’s _delighted_ to be afforded the distraction.

For like a minute.

“I _really_ like kissing you, but I need coffee,” she mumbles.

Wordlessly, he hums in what she assumes is agreement even if he hasn’t quite stopped kissing her yet.

“Okay, break on three,” she jokes, forcing herself to step away. 

“That wasn’t three,” he complains good-naturedly as he follows her out the door.

Right when she opens her mouth to respond, she hears footsteps and grabs the closest thing she can—some tacky-but-conveniently-heavy candleholder Waverly bought—and rears back to bludgeon whoever it is rounds the corner into the hall and—

“Jeremy, I swear to _God!”_ she exclaims shrilly, dropping the candleholder and clenching her fists, _“Why are you here?”_

Holding a tablet a little precariously, the kid’s eyes sorta dart back and forth between her and—oh, they are wearing towels.  Okay.  That’s… fair.

“Chetri,” she prompts sharply, tugging the towel a little tighter.

“Um—ah!  Right, I came here… for a reason,” he says haltingly.

She waits a moment.  “Can that reason wait for me to put on pants?” she asks expectantly.

“Yes!  Ye—uh, yeah, yep, please.”

“Great, back in two shakes,” she snaps without any real heat.  She rounds on Dolls, whose face is the kind of convenient variety of stony that indicates he’s _probably_ trying not to laugh at her.  “You too, boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> *strums guitar* Um here's some shower sex because we deserve it after tonight.
> 
> Swing by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I cry about these nerds a lot, even during the off season.


End file.
